Airel: The Discovering (Airel Saga Book Two)

Chapter II

The City of Ke’elei—1250 B.C.

KREIOS KNEW FIRSTHAND WHO it was that had His large, powerful hand under the universe. It is—was—will be—El; God the Most High. Kreios had looked into His eyes and seen the flame of fire that burned there. He felt the Presence, and in those eyes he had seen more than he could ever say in one lifetime—even a lifetime as long as his would be.

Kreios feared God in a way that gave bedrock meaning to the word. The All Powerful Knowing Master Who ruled and reigned could in an instant know every choice that would be made in a single life. Even the earth knew Who had spun it into existence. Kreios knew Him as El, or the power of El. The saying was true that El was all in all.

Kreios’ thinking was best done in the air, where the cool scent of the earth filled his nostrils and mind. He could think clear thoughts in the blank canvas above, where the land below rippled in undulations, and trees seemed to grow from nothing, in an order known only to El.

He was glad that Maria, wife to his beloved brother, was safe—and his daughter as well, in the hidden city at Ke’elei, most simply called, “the City.” No more was ever needed. It was the most beautiful place on earth. A long valley of tall, green grass led up to it in a lush carpet, shouting out with the truest color he had seen since he left home.

They had been in the City for two days now, and Kreios took his morning flight over the valley that lay nestled between snow-capped peaks rising sharply like teeth toward the sky. On the north end was a sheer cliff of rusty red that stood in stark contrast to the calm green valley. It reminded Kreios of what he had seen in parts of the world where deserts gripped the earth and the sun was king.

He turned and surveyed the City from the sky. He was just a speck against the light blue, and as he looked down, he admired the thick fortress walls that ran along the boundary edge of the great City. They had been laid with white stones—each one as big as a village house—five or six stones high, arcing smoothly in a line. The City was hemmed in to the north by the cliff, to the south by the wall, and to east and west by the mountains.

Horses and chariots would race side by side on the top of the wall at the year-end festival. Great oaks and elms tangled with the deepness of an unknown forest at its base, and giant ancient redwoods towered before it, hiding the City from the view of anyone in the valley below. The City fathers had planned well for its defense, making it impenetrable to any known assault.

Behind the walls, the City spread like a delicate flower over the fertile soil of the valley and up the side of the mountain, sometimes cutting directly into the stone face. These stone houses led to tunnels and paths that wound deep into the heart of the mountain, making use of the protection that only a natural granite fortress could afford.

The City was surrounded by a courtyard of grass with a stone pillar at its center. The pillar was crowned with a bright flame that burned by night, providing light and warmth and consuming no fuel. It was evidence of the Presence that it was not forgotten, that it was prized. The fire flared up each night, appearing at dusk and illuminating the entire City, snuffing itself out at dawn’s first light. Outside the City’s walls, no light was visible, keeping safe the secret of the City of Ke’elei.

It is El, Kreios thought. He wills it—and so it is.

The rest of the buildings in the City were constructed with the same materials as had been used to build the wall and to form the mountains. Glass, and another gift from the angels—mirrors—reflected the mountain around the City as well as the sky above, making it nearly invisible.

Kreios liked how clean the streets were, and he loved the sound of the young children who ran there, filling the City with laughter. It took him back to another age, when creation was as yet still filled with innocence. These young would be trained as warriors; every family member was to be trained in the art of war.

Kreios descended, landing by the stone pillar at the City’s center. The grass under his feet moved, as if it was aware of and had reverence for the Sword he carried. He would attend a gathering with the elders to learn what counsel they had in regard to the inevitable battle with the Seer and his horde, which Kreios had provoked by breaking the treaty in order to save his daughter’s life.

Today, though, he would take another long rest and enjoy the beautiful warm weather and hold his only darling baby girl. He would softly kiss her head, with another kiss in memory of her mother.